


Snowflakes

by HawkSong



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Adopted Children, Fluff, Sentimental, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28291743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkSong/pseuds/HawkSong
Summary: Lyna is fascinated by mention of something she has never seen: snow.
Relationships: Lyna & G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	Snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted something soft and sweet and sentimental for my Starlight gift to myself  
> Hope you all enjoy it too!

“Gran'pa! Look!” The little Vii gave him a wide smile as she hefted the large book in her arms.

“Goodness!” G'raha Tia – no, the Crystal Exarch, now – laughed as he bent down. “Where did you find this, Lyna my girl?”

The youngster had not been in his care long – less than a year – but he had grown fond of her almost immediately upon bringing her here, as one of a handful of survivors – the only one, now – of a sin eater attack on the border between Lakeland and the Greatwood. She was small for her age, only up to his waist (where other Vii were nearly to his shoulder by age eight). She had large, soft gray eyes, one of her prettiest features – very expressive eyes, that sometimes gave away more than her face did, for she was a singularly solemn girl. She had been even quieter than usual lately – having lost both of her front top incisors, she had a pronounced lisp just at the moment and was far too self-conscious about it to speak in the presence of her peers. With him, however...with him, she was much more relaxed.

He was glad of it. He had never been any sort of parent before, but he had looked after the children of his tribe as a kind of babysitter. For him, Lyna was not just another person to take care of, but a treasure – fleeting as her presence would be in his life. The Vii were known to reach adulthood quickly...

He tucked the thought away in the back of his mind, and focused on the darling child before him now.

Lyna scampered over to him and let him lift her up in his arms. He eased her weight a bit, holding her on his hip, so that he could tip the book she held and see its title.

_Crystallization of Water into Ice: Graduate Studies in Microscopy and Aether Shift_

“Ah,” he coughed to keep himself from laughing. “What an interesting choice.”

“I finded it,” she chirped. “It wath onna table. Thumbody lefted it.”

He snuggled her close to him for an instant. “Was my brave explorer in the Cabinet of Curiosity today?”

She pushed at his shoulder, her silver brows drawing together in a playful frown. “Yeth! Ith midweek, Gran'pa!” Her tone was full of that unique exasperation only small children can muster.

“Oh yes!” He pulled a face, pretending to contrition. “Today _was_ a school day, wasn't it. Your grandpa is old, and forgets so easily.” Then, he tapped his finger on her nose.

She wrinkled up her nose at him, and then giggled. Gently, he tugged the book loose from her grasp.

“What caught your interest,” he asked her, “about this particular book?”

As he spoke he was carrying her towards his desk.

She pointed at the front cover. “Ith pretty!”

“Indeed, you're right.” And she was: the cover was very lovely, the leather carefully tooled and the incisions painted. The stylized snowflakes glittered in the light; the ink used must have mica flakes in it, he mused to himself.

“Very pretty,” he nodded again, and then set the book down. Arranging Lyna carefully, he sat down in his chair.”Did you open it?”

Her index finger went to her mouth, and she pressed her lips against the tip of the digit, a small comfort gesture she had already developed before he ever adopted her. “No...?” Her gray eyes went somber as she regarded him, clearly uncertain what he would say next.

But he smiled at her, reassuring. She still didn't _always_ trust him. The horrors she had seen when her parents were taken from her had left deep marks indeed.

So it was with gentle patience that he ruffled her hair and told her, “Well. Let us sit together, and see what's inside these pretty covers, hm?”

She leaned forward, eager to see.

“What'th that?”

“That is a snowflake.”

“What'th thnow?”

“Well...”

She was very, very disappointed to find that there were only a handful of rather technical drawings of snowflakes as seen under magnification. “I thought it would have loth of pretty pictureth,” she pouted.

The Exarch chuckled.

“Would you like to come into the bigger library, and help me search for a better book?”

“A book about thnow?”

“Yes, my girl,” he laughed. “Come now, let us go find a good book about snow.”

“ _A Snow Day_.” G'raha glanced at Lyna. “Does this one suit your fancy, my girl?”

She peered at the cover; his eyes crinkled as he hid a smile to see how solemn her little face was. She examined the small book with all the gravity of a Limsan inspector of goods.

The cover was brightly colored, with somewhat comical shapes. A children's book for true, not one of the charming illustrated histories that rested in the Cabinet of Curiosity. Those books had their purpose – namely to allow folk to learn about the most important parts of the recent past, whether they could read or not. But this – this was an artifact of another era. Another world. This was an indulgent gift to a treasured child, a thing meant to bring simple pleasure.

At last, she nodded. “Yeth. Pleath read it to me, Gran'pa?”

“But of course,” he nodded, and carried her and the book back up into his study.

This time, the two of them did not sit at the desk; instead they sat on the somewhat shabby divan, on which the Exarch (and sometimes, Lyna) napped at odd hours. He had considered taking her to her own room – but he had grown familiar with Lyna's moods, and she was not at all ready for sleep.

So, he sat on the couch, with her sitting in his lap (her left ear occasionally tickled his cheek), and read aloud to her.

The story was exceedingly simple – a parent-figure and a child-figure, and a cold day. Breaths on glass, and frosted ground. The catching of snowflakes – the Exarch smiled at that, remembering for a moment his own long-ago childhood, in the foothills of eastern Garlemald, before the conquering armies, before the world had gone mad.

Lyna was fascinated, and asked him to read it again right away. Then, when he gently reminded her that it was getting late, she begged to be allowed to keep the book with her.

Knowing she would be careful of it, he permitted this little indulgence, and so she snuggled into her bed – ridiculously fluffy, she almost vanished in the feather-bed – with the book in one hand and her favorite doll under her other arm. He left a small light on, knowing she would likely “read” the book to her doll before falling asleep, and returned to his work.

Three days later, he found her sitting at her own little desk (an old end table with a small stool set beside it), poring over the snow book, frowning deeply.

“Whatever is the matter, Lyna?”

She looked up at him. “I don't underthand thnow,” she told him, her voice shivering with a frustration he had never heard from her before. “It'th not _real_.”

Well, not in any part of Norvrandt, not anymore. He had to concede that. The Exarch cocked his head at the little Vii and considered. He understood what she could not quite articulate. Without experiencing the strange soft wonder of a snowfall, it would naturally be harder for her to really connect with the ideas in the book. And she very clearly wished for that connection.

His Ocular was not needed for anything today. It would not take much effort to...

“Come, then.” He held his hand out to her. The decision was, after all, very easy to make. “I will show you snow.”

He had her stand in the northeastern quarter of the circular chamber. “Now, close your eyes tightly for just a little while. You will know when to open them.”

Then, he began to weave his illusion, drawing from the book's illustrations but also from his own memory.

Lyna stood patient and still, her ears twitching, until he added the final touch – temperature. She opened her eyes with a small gasp as icy-cold air moved across the room.

The Ocular looked like another place entirely.

There was a suggestion of a bed, and two figures – one tall, one closer to Lyna's height – the very figures from the book, but rendered in three dimensions and just slightly translucent.

The small one stood near a window, looking out onto a pale landscape.

Lyna stepped forward, eyes wide, and stood beside the small figure.

The Exarch began to speak. Simple as the text was, he'd barely needed to make an effort to memorize the lines of the book.

“Oh, it's very cold today.” The parent-figure moved to stand behind the child-figure. One hand lifted, to point upwards. “Look at the clouds, so soft and gray.”

Lyna looked up obediently, and blinked at the simulated sky. Then, as the next lines were spoken, her eyes drifted back down to the landscape. There, grass was coated in frost, and the first snowflakes were beginning to fall and collect on the bushes.

“The ground is silver with frost,” the parent said. “And turning white with snow.”

The child-figure leaned forward, and a puff of air came forth from it to strike the “glass” of the window. Fog formed, and the Exarch grinned to himself as Lyna made a tiny squeak of excitement. Then (as he had known she would), she tried the trick herself.

“We can make fog on the glass with our breaths!” This voice sounded just like her own, and she giggled. She understood it was all illusion: she had seen the Exarch do such things before.

He let her (and the illusory child-figure) play a bit with the fogging glass, until Lyna herself quoted the next line.

“Can we pleath go out-thide?”

The parent-figure nodded, and the scene shifted, simulating a short walk through the “house” and a gathering of clothing. “Make sure you have your coat and gloves.”

Then, the whole room seemed to “open up” as he manipulated the illusion to send the two figures and Lyna “outside.”

“Look! Now I can thee my breath in the air!” Lyna clapped her hands, and then blinked. She turned to look back towards the Exarch for an instant, and he nodded reassuringly. He had dropped the temperature in the Ocular, and it was truly cold enough now for exactly that phenomenon.

For a moment, she shivered, and then became fascinated once more by the unusual behavior of her breath.

Then, the snow began. He could not make a true simulacrum of snow: but he could and did make his illusion just strong enough to give the impression of snow touching skin. The parent-figure guided the child-figure, their heads tilted up, their hands lifted.

“Try to catch a snowflake on your hand or on your tongue.”

Moving to imitate the figures beside her, Lyna obeyed, and her gray eyes lit with the understanding she had spoken of with such longing. The “snow” landed, then melted against her hand. Even faster did it melt against her tongue. She kept trying, even taking the tail of her shirt and trying to catch a snowflake or two that way.

“It goes away. The snow doesn't stay.” The illusion voice spoke, but now Lyna turned to face the Exarch. He came close to her, and knelt down.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why won't it thtay?”

He could have told her about the temperature differences, he could have explained the scientific reasons. But he knew that right now, this moment, she didn't just mean the snow.

“It doesn't stay,” he nodded, and set his hand on her shoulder. “But that's okay.”

He turned her so that her back was against his chest, so he could hug her lightly, and looked out at the snowy landscape he had summoned up out of memory and old dreams.

“We never know quite why things and people leave us, my dear.” He felt her little hands gripping his. “It is simply a part of nature, something that happens whether we will it or not, no different from ice melting. But it doesn't have to make us sad forever.”

“Are you sad?” He felt how she struggled to speak clearly, and hugged her tighter.

“Only a little. After all, I have you here. How can I be sad for long, when I can see you smile?”

She turned around and snuggled into him, and he felt more than heard her sniffle.

He petted her hair. Soon enough she would be too big – too _mature_ – for such sentimental moments. She would be tall, and strong. Maybe she would join the ranks of researchers, or the apothecaries, but he had a feeling she would gravitate towards the more martial aspects of Crystarium life. And one day, she would stop living in the Tower. Perhaps she would find a lover, or a mate. She would _grow up_ , in other words. That might mean growing away from him – and he had to accept that _now_ , for he would do her no favors by clinging to her too tightly. No matter how much comfort she was to his loneliness – he would have to let her go. Someday.

The last line of the book fell from his lips as he let the illusion fade.

“Sometimes things don't stay, but they can still make us happy in some little way.”

Lyna's voice was muffled. “Gran'pa, I love you.”

He shut his eyes, and smiled.

“I love you too, my little snowflake.”


End file.
